


Alive

by The_Anglophile



Series: Ziggy and Sphinx [1]
Category: David Bowie (Musician)
Genre: AU, Bowie/Bowie slash!, Other, Symbolism, weird au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Anglophile/pseuds/The_Anglophile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short, dark vignette from a strange alternate reality.  </p>
<p>Ziggy is feeling disconnected from himself, but the sphinx cannot understand the concept, for it always exists purely in the here and now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alive

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with David Bowie, and all likenesses and names of real persons are employed in a strictly fictional context.
> 
> A/N: Warnings are at the end of the fic.
> 
> An older fic of mine, from 2005. Drew the picture first, and wrote the story based on it. [This](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lrgd4vIR2Y1qimhp1o1_500.jpg) is where I got the idea for the sphinx character.

Ziggy ran the knife blade slowly over his fingertips. Thin red lines seeped to the surface of his skin. The knife was very sharp. He sighed and wondered apathetically just how long death by haemorrhaging would take.

He gazed at the bright metal of the blade, marvelling at the danger that lay in such a seemingly beautiful object. A slip of the hand, and that could be the end, he thought. He brought the knife up to his throat and lay the cool flat of the blade against his pulse, feeling the life that flowed within him pressing rhythmically against the hard metal. The persistent beat seemed inconsequential to him and he pondered what it would feel like for it to slow and stop. Would it be like falling asleep? Or drowning, perhaps? A slow loss of consciousness and a cool numbness washing over the body. Stillness.

He ran the tip of the knife over his clavicle and down the length of his sternum to his belly, watching the tiny red line that followed it like a crimson snake. It was beautiful in an odd way. He traced other lines into the flesh of his belly, ignoring the stinging that accompanied the strokes.

So absorbed was he that he didn’t notice the sphinx enter the room and sit next to the bed. It watched him curiously with its yellow eyes, the tip of its tail twitching. Presently it put a paw on the bed, prompting his attention. He stopped what he was doing and looked at the creature.

“Rrrrr...why arrre you doing that?” it asked in its strange feline dialect.

Ziggy thought about this for a moment. He didn’t really know, but answered anyway, for he knew the sphinx would not let him remain silent. It always demanded its questions be answered. “I like the way it feels,” he replied, his own voice sounding strange in his ears.

The sphinx cocked its head in puzzlement, uttering a little growl. Ziggy almost smiled. It looked so cute when it did that.

It then seemed to accept this information without further puzzling, for it said, “I can do that too,” and, before Ziggy knew what was happening, it reached up with a paw and sunk its claws into his chest. It dragged the paw downward a few inches, leaving four neat slits that quickly began to bleed.

Ziggy froze when the claws entered his skin. It was the first thing he had really felt in weeks. He made no move to stop it, and uttered no sound as the razor-sharp claws rent his flesh for what seemed like an age. When the claws at last retracted and the blood began to run, he let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He stared in awe at the bleeding gashes in his chest, more aware of the pain than he ever thought he could be, feeling each new breath he took like a blast of cold water hitting his lungs.

He looked up. The sphinx had asked him something.

“Rrr...Did you like that?” it repeated.

Ziggy took a deep breath to calm himself. “Yes, I liked it very much,” he replied quite honestly, “You don’t have to do it again.”

The sphinx smiled happily and purred, rubbing its face against his thigh. Ziggy stroked its head affectionately. It was such a sweet creature.

As he enjoyed the feeling of the living, hot blood running down his chest, and the sphinx’s soft hair in his fingers, he recalled with horror what he had been thinking of doing just a few moments before, and swiftly put the knife down next to him on the bed. The thought now made him cold all over with fear at his own unpredictability.

“Come here,” he said to the sphinx, patting the bed. He wanted to feel another’s warmth against him. The creature jumped gracefully up onto the bed and settled between Ziggy legs, resting its head on his stomach, and draping a heavy paw over his thigh. Its twitching tail tickled his foot.

Ziggy once again wove his fingers into its hair, stroking softly. It looked up at him and began purring, its cat eyes narrowing with pleasure. It dug its claws into his thigh, not hard enough to draw blood this time, but just enough to leave him a stinging reminder that he was alive.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS:  
> Suicidal thoughts, self-injury (cutting), dissociation, depression


End file.
